


Right is Might

by athousandwinds



Category: AJ Raffles - Hornung
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-23
Updated: 2010-01-23
Packaged: 2017-10-06 15:10:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/athousandwinds/pseuds/athousandwinds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Want, take, have," says Raffles, and as always I end by subscribing to his philosophy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Right is Might

"_Raffles_," I said in an agony of terror, and made a wild grab for his arm at the same time at he made a wild grab for the last of the safe's contents; thrown off-balance, he fell to the floor with a solid thud. Immediately we both froze: I with fear, he with what was more likely annoyance. The owner and his friend, however, seemed to be too absorbed in their nightcap to pay attention to noises from upstairs, and I swarmed down the rope with no trouble. Raffles, who first of all loved to make matters more difficult for himself, and second had grown fond of a rope which had served him well for some months, carefully detached it from the window and proceeded to scramble down the wall of the house using only the pipes and sills for help.

"My dear rabbit," he said, "kindly don't do that again. I'd've hated to slap our friend the owner in the face with Plan B."

"What was – " I began to ask, then realised how Raffles must know Mr Simon Marlowe, Esq. They had met at a club Raffles frequented, he had said, and though I did not know all his haunts, I could guess this one. "You would never have stooped to blackmail," I said confidently.

"Oh, well!" said Raffles. "I didn't; all's well that ends well."

I still do not believe to this day that Raffles was ever intending to blackmail Marlowe, nor indeed anyone. It was not his style. Raffles had ordinary gods. My sainted aunt would have called them heathen, though in truth she merely worshipped them by another name. They were the gods of better nature; honesty and fair play with a dash of patriotism. Had it not been for his choice of career, Raffles would have been exemplar.

"You worry too much, rabbit," Raffles told me. "You have a High Church streak of morality in you. Take what you want to take – it's all anyone does in the end." And his mouth curved cynically.

"You're one to talk," I said, dropping our bag of valuables on the grass. We were in Hyde Park and even at two o'clock we were dangerously exposed, for this was the hour that bobbies liked to prowl. But I was drunk on my own words and I said, "You don't take me seriously."

"I do," Raffles said, his voice low, and when I demanded proofs, he hushed me. "When we're home, Bunny!"

No sooner had we reached our lodgings than Raffles sprawled on his bed, smiling at me as I tried to judge where I should put the bag. "Come and sit beside me," he said. I obeyed, finally dropping the bag by the foot of it, and he slid his hand onto my knee.

"Now, Bunny," he said. "Let me teach you how to overcome your upbringing." But he did nothing, only stroked my knee a little and smirked at me. At least, I suppose it was a smirk; sometimes it softened to a smile. Every so often, his tongue would come out to lick at it, and my eyes would follow the quick movement. Raffles's eyes would become more knowing, and his fingers might shift an inch, or half an inch, forward, but that was nothing. I could feel every touch of his fingertips, so light and casual, even affectionate, and shamefully warm on my thigh. His tongue, too, became hypnotic: one, two, _leftright_, swallow. Every time he wet his lips, I made an abortive move forward, until eventually he said in a quiet, half-whisper of a voice: "_Bunny_."

And that was that, really, for Raffles was hot under my hands and laughing at my attempts to undo his trousers with such shaking hands. He responded generously to my amateur overtures; he returned my kisses with interest and moaned under every caress. It became apparent that this set of arrangements suited Raffles, who liked to be the one adored rather than the adoring. I could have set him up an altar, and his only protest would have been, "Rather a lot of fuss, Bun." To fondle a man's yard is not an uncommon task; even I, inexperienced as I was, had done it before. But I had not taken it into my mouth; this I had only to do with Raffles, now and hereafter.

It pleased him; he cried out so loud that our landlady scolded him the next morning. And when he spent, I swallowed it willingly enough. I had swallowed much worse from Raffles.

"You see my point, Bunny," said Raffles quite cheerfully. "Taking is the only way one can ever get anything."

"You horror," I said, and promptly went to sleep on the strength of it.


End file.
